How I fell in love with Italian football

Buona sera!

I was going to go into a soliloquy about why I haven't posted anything lately but let's just drop that boring note and get into the good news, shall we? Euro Cup 2008 is finally here this Saturday, the moment I've been waiting for pretty much since Italy won the World Cup, on 9 July 2006. 

The Cup that changed my life. It's high time I told you that story.

On 17 June 2006, from Germany, the World Cup's schedule featured Italy and the USA in the first elimination round, and there was a party at a friend's sports bar/restaurant.

I was at the party early. Lots of my favorite Italo-American friends would be there and I did not want to miss a beat. I made sure I was seated front and center - great big screen, great furniture, great food, even better company and, suddenly, before my very eyes, Gli Azzurri - Team Italy.

Oooh. Mmm, I thought as  I watched the players in blue. Mmm. Having never watched a pro soccer match before in my life, the first thing that got my attention was that there was no padding, no helmets, no protection except goalkeepers' gloves (and Italy's goalkeeper...whole separate thing to notice...) so, wow, you could see these men really well. And they really were worth a look. Oooh. Mmmmmmmmm.

Then it happened. Italy scored the first goal. The beautiful Alberto Gilardino slid to his knees and mimicked playing a violin. (If you watch the video in the link above, you'll see this scene).

I was in awe, mesmerized. I had never seen anything like that in my life. I looked seriously at my friend Linda, sitting next to me, and said,

"I'm in love. I'm done. Toast. I love this game. I love these players. It's over. I'm...done." I probably said all this along with hand gestures of sorts. Then I was about speechless. Very unusual for me.

The match ended in a draw, 1-1. Team USA was invisible as far as I was concerned. I remember absolutely nothing about them or their squad. I only had eyes for Team Italy, especially when I discovered Alessandro Nesta. (Later on I laughed to my good friend Jim Riggio that I had mistaken Gila for Nesta: "I thought it was Nesta that did the mock violin thing! I fell in love with the wrong guy. Not all that unusual for me!") Never mind. I was madly in love with 23 men, all at the same time. Deep, deep love.

Every match Italy played after that, I was able to watch even if it meant getting up between 5 and 6am (Evening matches were 9 hours ahead of California time). My schedule was always clear to indulge my new passion. How magical. How fabulous. I love falling in love in July.

Italy triumphed over Germany in the semifinal on 4th of July. I was late to my family's party that day. I could not wait for 9 July, when the Final would be with France. Huge party plans began to unfold.

By that hot - scorchy, actually - Sunday morning, at least 500 Italo-Americans, sports fans or not, had gathered at a site in San Pedro for the 11am match. I was asked why I had left the house on a Sunday so early (refer to my post on Sacred Sundays) - by now, for those who knew me well, that was such a foolish question. Duh!

Spectacular! Italy won and we all went positively insane, as if these players were made of our own flesh and blood. I had never seen a trophy ceremony like that. I had never, ever been so thrilled at the victory of a sports match.

I could hardly sleep that night. I felt like my life had been changed forever. It had.

I went to Italy a few months later and the country was still tingling from all that. Pictures of my new heroes were everywhere. They were on TV commercials. I was enraptured, always thinking, "they are so lucky in Italy!" I went to Rome for the first time and was told more than once that my favorite site, the fabulous ,Via Del Corso, was where the team's bus arrived in Rome for their coming home celebration two days after they'd won the World Cup. 

By then I had begun studying and following the players' individual club teams and a new friend in Torino even took me to a live Juventus match one freezing afternoon, which was one of the highlights of my life. I got to have conversation after conversation with beautiful men in Italy (such a great way to practice my second language) - because I was this bizarro anomaly - an Italo-American woman who loved Italian football. How much fun was that - for maybe everyone, least of all, me. I learned more Italian vocabulary than I might have otherwise, for reading the sports journals and watching the sports news every day. There were always such great interviews and photographs of my favorite players. (They are so lucky in Italy.)

The next two times I went to Italy after that? More of the same. I say I travel there not only because I intend to literally make the motherland my second home (it already is the home of my heart and soul; my body just needs to catch up), I go to collect people and their stories, revel in the cuisine, and immerse myself as much as possible in the national religion that is Italian football. (And for the record, I'm kinda homesick, by the way.)

This passion has brought more joy into my life than I thought it could. Since EURO CUP starts on Saturday, and it's said, for Europeans to be almost as important as the World Cup, it would definitely be fair to say...

I am so lucky.